


Take It or Kill the President

by nazgularepeopletoo



Category: Assassins - Sondheim/Weidman
Genre: Anger, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Peer Pressure, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazgularepeopletoo/pseuds/nazgularepeopletoo
Summary: Lee went to say something, but Booth’s glare silenced him.“Then you have to kill the president.”
Relationships: John Wilkes Booth/Lee Harvey Oswald
Kudos: 7





	Take It or Kill the President

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2017 and everyone told me I had to post it. This is. Garbage. And so so short. Enjoy.

He pushed at Lee, watching the anger grow in his eyes. Grinning, he pushed him again, harder this time. "That's it, get /angry/, Lee. Get /mad/." Lee was shaking now, and it wouldn't take long for him to break. Booth reached out to shove him again, but before he could make contact, Lee's hand cracked across his face, hard enough to throw him off balance. He stumbled, putting a hand out to catch himself. The windowsill was the only thing in reach. He stood there panting for half a second, feeling his face throb and his pants tighten before he was grabbed by the collar and yanked upright. The hand tangled in his jacket pulled him away from the window and shoved him hard against the wall, slamming his nose on the wood. Hips pressed against his, pressing his dick painfully closer against the wall. He couldn't move.

"That's it, Lee. Now go on. Take it. Use your anger and /take it/." His voice quivered, his knees starting to weaken. It was hard to breathe through his nose and ninety percent of his focus was on the half-hard cock pressed against his ass through layers of fabric. Did Lee really get off on hitting people? He seemed a bit more apologetic than that, but Booth wasn't complaining.    
  


The room fell silent; the only sounds were Lee's laboured breathing and the occasional, unintentional whine from Booth. Then the hand on Booth’s jacket disappeared, as did the body holding him up. He collapsed to his knees with a gasp, scrambling around to stare up at Lee with wide eyes. Lee was trembling, hands fidgeting with his shirt.

“I can't…” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. “I can't do that.” He shook his head and went to grab his lunchbox, but Booth was faster. He pushed himself across the floor and grabbed Lee’s wrist tightly, feeling the bones almost grate together. Lee went to say something, but Booth’s glare silenced him.

“Then you have to kill the president.”


End file.
